Books

February 08, 2015

Here's another one of those startling passages in Kate Atkinson's Case Histories which I have been reading very slowly, mostly because it is dense, and because Atkinson takes such amazing care to reveal the complicated emotions of her characters -- in fact, it is not always what they are doing that matters half as much as the convoluted, subconscious reasons why they are doing it. Atkinson's observations on very human frailities have a way of suddenly sounding waaay too familiar (the hungry mother I wrote on earlier) and this one about a young woman who works feverishly at being perfect at everything because:

"...she was driven by something, only she didn't know what it was but she was sure that if one day she could get finished then she'd be free of whatever it was that was driving her."

This seems such a perfect description of my first waking thoughts somedays -- a long list of things I feel I must do before I can clear the space to get my writing done -- at the same time knowing in my bones the things that must be done are also a way of not facing the "thing that was driving" me.

Set at the beginning of the 19th-century, England no longer believes in practical magic. The reclusive Mr Norrell (Marsan) of Hurtfew Abbey stuns the city of York when he causes the statues of York Cathedral to speak and move. With a little persuasion and help from his man of business Childermass (Enzo Cilenti), he goes to London to help the government in the war against Napoleon. It is there Norrell summons a fairy (Warren) to bring Lady Pole (Englert) back from the dead, opening a whole can of worms…

The series is produced by Cuba Pictures for BBC One and co-produced with BBC AMERICA, in association with Feel Films, Far Moor, Screen Yorkshire and Bell Media's SPACE. It is distributed by Endemol Worldwide Distribution.

August 28, 2014

Today is Canadian author Roberston Davies' birthday and I was really charmed by this fascinating Paris Review interview with him in 1986 popping in my feed today. Davies is one of those remarkable individuals, larger than life, funny, brilliant, a world traveler, lecturer, he wrote, taught, and was part of the Gutherie Theater's artistic development. He also founded The Robertson Davies Library at Massey College in Toronto dedicated to collecting materials "focusing on the technical aspects of the book arts including the history, practice and technique of printing, illustration, typography, graphic arts, papermaking and binding from the late 18th century through to the mid 20th century." One can also visit the Roberston Davies Collection at Queen's University in Kingston, Ontario that houses all of his papers -- a remarkable collection of over 5,000 items to pour over. (After my family treasure trove, I realize I am totally into that kind of browsing experience!)

I read and am re-reading his Deptford Trilogy and Cornish Trilogy which I do about every decade, because I love how easily he pulls in theater, the fantastic, deeply complicated plots that are so satisfying, and because there is no one better to write about academics and university life. But as a writer, it was this passage in the interview that most resonated with me as the notes, the images, and scribbled ideas for my own novel pile up and offered an unexpected encouragement in the process (which all I can consider at this moment, the outcome being so far off in the distance):

"I am at the moment winding up to write another novel, and when I say “winding up” I mean I am making notes and plans and perpetually building up what I will eventually write; that is the way I work. I make very, very careful plans and a great many notes—so many notes indeed that sometimes they are as long or longer than the eventual book. And sketches of characters and suggestions and references to things that will be useful. All that takes a long time. Getting to work on a new novel is a dismal business, for the beginnings never seem to get any easier with the passing of time. I toil like a swimmer who feels himself about to sink beneath the waves at any moment. Like all my novels, this one began with quite a simple idea, but as I work on it a mass of complexities assert themselves, and I have to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by extraneous detail. But then—at least the way I work—when you begin to write, you can write quite briskly because you have done all the preparatory work beforehand. I hope it turns out well. But with novels, like cakes, you never know. Even when I finish a book, I’m never sure whether it is good or rubbish."

So, I pray the cake will hold. And that will be good. And can I just add, that I love even more that he used a food analogy -- another habit of my family when talking about literature that is close to my heart.

March 20, 2014

This is coming -- A new translation of Beowulf by J.R.R. Tolkien. And I am very excited too. I collect translations of Beowulf (have since I was a kid and stole my brother's copy of Rosemary Sutcliff's retelling with with fabulous and scary illustrations by Charles Keeping). As an adult I have loved Seamus Heaney's Translation -- which while it isn't illustrated, there are kickass videos on youtube of the poet reading the text. An now this one: Tolkien's 1920-30s translation and commentary and lectures which looks absolutely terrific. Here's is a quote from Christopher Tolkien about the forthcoming work (May, 22, 2014) from Harper Collins:

"The translation of Beowulf by J.R.R. Tolkien was an early work, very distinctive in its mode, completed in 1926: he returned to it later to make hasty corrections, but seems never to have considered its publication. This edition is twofold, for there exists an illuminating commentary on the text of the poem by the translator himself, in the written form of a series of lectures given at Oxford in the 1930s; and from these lectures a substantial selection has been made, to form also a commentary on the translation in this book."

Illustration by Charles Keeping from the Kevin Crossley Holland retelling.

January 30, 2014

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could publish our novels with such lovely marginalia? There is something so unexpectedly tender about these two snails meeting and kissing in the margin. Marginalia art has a vital life of its own -- existing side by side with text but not necessarily commenting on the text. It's the mind reading and wandering a little bit, hearing the whispered words in the head, but delighting in the visual art that sidetracks and then returns one to the text, refreshed. And all in a matter of moments.

Art: Bibliothèque municipale de Lyon, Ms 6881, detail of f. 72. Book of Hours, use of Chalon. 15th century.

January 08, 2014

How stunning is this? The text reads "Ave Maria Gratia Plena" -- "Hail Mary Full of Grace." But within the confines of each letter, the calligrapher depicts individual narratives creating tension between the two -- the formality of the letters joined into sacred text and the liveliness of the people and animals engaged in very human and fantastic activities. An unstoppable redeemed creation -- with all its beauty and faults, love and violence, domestic and wild nature praising Mary the Mother of God. (Click on the image for a larger version)

Heure de Charles d’Angoulême. Horae ad usum Parisiensem. Latin 1173. 1485. (source: Bibliothèque nationale de France). And if you want to see the entire manuscript (praise be for the digital age!) go here "Horae ad usum Parisiensem" and scroll through the pages.

Here is a bit more about the work and the artist from a publisher that specializes in creating reproductions of these beautiful manuscripts.

"This book of hours commissioned for Charles, Count of Angoulême (the father of Francis I of France) is undeniably Robinet Testard’s most personal work. Testard, one of France’s most creative painters, drew upon his boundless imagination to create a totally novel work. The calendar scenes on the opening pages are surprisingly original. Testard also portrays exotic landscapes, botanical elements, an acrostic featuring animated figures more typical of alphabet books, and even combines mythology and religion in rather peculiar ways. Testard’s compositions in the Passion cycle are inspired by engraving techniques, and the intense, vivid colours in his paintings bring the scenes alive."

Midori Snyder

Midori Snyder is the author of nine novels for children and adults. She won the Mythopoeic Award for The Innamorati, a novel inspired by early Roman myth and the Italian "Commedia dell'Arte" tradition. more>>